


Cuius Regio

by Kate Andrews (k8andrewz)



Category: Kings
Genre: 1000-5000 Words, Alternate Timeline, Episode Tag, First Time, M/M, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-14
Updated: 2009-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:31:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k8andrewz/pseuds/Kate%20Andrews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This one, Jack owes it to himself to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cuius Regio

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through 1.10 "Javelin".

With some help, Jack performs a daring rescue of David and then they are spirited off to some nameless, hidden apartment in one of a hundred highrises Uncle owns. They are to bide their time for a night while outside, things fall apart and into place. Jack wants David to ask. He wants the question "Why did you do it?" because he doesn't even know, but David doesn't ask because he's David.

It's not hard to convince David to have a drink because after this day, one is needed. More than one is needed, so then they have another. And another. Uniforms get loosened but not shed and Jack wonders whether this is because it's the armor he needs, or for another reason entirely. No. That's a lie. For longer than he's known what lies were, Jack has lied like breathing, but seldom to himself. Jack knows that in this place, in this moment, two Gilboan men in two Gilboan uniforms, the pair of them are closer to equal than they will ever be again.

Tonight, Jack is no prince. Tonight, David is just a soldier; they're both just soldiers. Jack tells himself this and it's not a lie - because while lies are Jack's first language, it's not a language he speaks when he's in the home of his head. Jack Benjamin was born blessed with inescapable knowledge of self and by the same blood cursed with a ban on its full and honest use. Cursed by his father's blood. Cursed because he is his father's son. Cursed because of who he is to his King. Spill that blood, get a new King and perhaps the curse is lifted.

And perhaps he just wants his father to know the end of his knife. Jack's never been one for singular motivations, after all. That's David's specialty. Is it the right thing to do? That's all David needs and Jack supposes David's curse is certainty with that. It would be more of a curse, Jack supposes, if he weren't so supremely chosen, but he is. Seventh son of a seventh son and seriously, how did his father not see that coming? How did his father not kill David in his cradle?

Tonight, though, in his loosened uniform and smile of tipsy relaxation, almost close enough to touch, David is just a tired soldier, just like Jack. David sprawls on the couch, unfamiliar in his informality. Not drunk, Jack thinks, just a little unwound. Jack sits at attention in a nearby chair, just *staring* and trying to figure out what it is, exactly, that he wants from David in this singular moment.

He knows that soon, David will be his King. He wants David to be his King. Hell, he knows that God wants David to be King and that right now, if Jack suggested it, David would just laugh, because he's David. And it's not like he's never thought about fucking David before, but it's been mostly from a "I want to fucking stain his purity" place. All the thoughts he's had of tearing David asunder have come from an ever-swelling desperate need to destroy that which is whole. But Jack knows that the time for desperation is now over. He knows that with dawn comes the time for something new. What Jack cannot determine is the thing that God wants of him now.

Then, breaking the last half-hour's silence, David says, "Your father is wrong. In your heart, you're more a prince than he is a King in his."

"He wasn't wrong about my faggotry."

David turns his head without lifting it, looks over at him. Not questioning or pitying or anything, just looking. Seeing.

It's disconcerting. Jack adds, "And what do you know about my heart?"

"I know what you did today," David says, unreadable with that placid, nearly blank expression.

"Everyone in the kingdom knows what I did for you today."

"I think you did it because it was right."

"Of course you do." He drains his glass and makes himself look away. "You must be God's chosen. No way you live this long in this world the way you are without his hand."

"And how am I, Jack?" David sits up, stands, and approaches Jack.

With every step David takes, more hairs stand on end on more of Jack's skin. David reaches, and Jack's momentarily at a loss, then he realizes David wants his empty glass, which he gives. David refills it, and his own, then he sits on the wide, padded arm of the very square but strangely comfortable chair Jack occupies. Jack looks up at David. "You're not real, David," and David's laugh is, of course, open and wholesome. For once, in a moment like this, Jack doesn't want to stain David. He wants to bathe in him.

David sets their glasses on the floor and says, "Yes, I am." Then he narrows his eyes at Jack. And then, he leans down, closer and closer still until his lips touch Jack's. A brief, warm press, held for half a breath - though Jack's has been stopped in his throat since David began his descent. On the surface, it's the sort of kiss one might give one's family, but David's not his family. Yet. Then David sits up again. "I have thought of that."

Once Jack is done blinking, shock and mean habit make him say, "When you were fucking my sister?"

The sting is evident on David's face but he holds Jack's gaze. "No. Other times, though."

Soon, David will be Jack's King, he'll be everyone's King and David doesn't even know it. Innocence piled on top of innocence sits beside Jack and he knows too much of what a King is to have any illusions that David will always be like this. The stains will come. That kind of power can't let a man stay clean. Not even one such as David. Jack stands abruptly. "When?" he asks, not facing David.

"Other times."

"Put a name to one."

"You had the tailor make me a tuxedo."

"A lifetime ago."

"And before the event, you came to survey his work."

Jack smirks, remembering David's unease with the unfamiliar clothes. He remembers the cruel little buzz of pleasure that unease brought him.

"You undid and remade my tie. And I thought for a second about how it would be if you kissed me."

"I'm surprised."

"So was I."

"I'm surprised because usually, I know when someone wants to kiss me."

"Do you?" David's voice is closer now, right behind Jack.

Jack breathes in, then slowly out through his nose.

"I didn't want to kiss you. I only thought about it."

"Strange thing for a man like you to think."

"A man like me?"

Jack turns, tired of talking to the floor to ceiling view of the city far below. He raises an eyebrow. "A man who doesn't often think of kissing other men."

"Not often. No."

"Tell me, Shepherd. What is it you want from me?"

David licks his lips. Then he's studying Jack's mouth as if it hides the answer.

Jack lays his right hand on David's shoulder, and it slides, like gravity works sideways, to the back of David's neck. He strokes the side of David's throat with his thumb. "After all, you've saved my life twice. At most, today discharged one debt."

"You weren't settling a debt."

"No. I wasn't. Tell me what you want from me."

"Everything," David says, as if it's just that simple.

Jack laughs, and at another time, in another place, it would feel hollow. Here, tonight, it fills him. "Of course. Of course you do." He lays his hand on David's cheek, his thumb on David's mouth and he traces the shape of it. It'll grace coins one day; Jack knows this even if David does not.

"I want," David says against Jack's thumb.

But Jack presses gently, silencing him. Jack wants to know this David before the crown leaves its inevitable mark. He's going to love that marked David, and until the second he thinks it, Jack hadn't really thought of this in terms of love. Though, to be fair, it's not as if it's a familiar sort of thought. It's a sure one, though, one that fills him with an excitement he can't recall feeling. The sort of first-taste high you chase but can never again catch.

He's going to love that David. But this one, he thinks as he smiles, this one Jack owes it to himself to know. "It's yours," he says.

Then, both his hands are on David's face. Then, David's hands are on his waist, sliding under the open jacket of his uniform, tugging at his shirt and undershirt till both are free and then reaching beneath them as well. On bare skin, David's hands are hot and, unexpectedly, shaking. They go still when Jack kisses him. This time, it's neither fraternal nor chaste.

One day, everything in the land will belong to David, but for tonight, Jack gets to be the only thing he owns.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the latin [Cuius regio, eius religio](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cuius_regio,_eius_religio).


End file.
